Sleeping Beauty's Demise: Book One of The Torn Tapestry Tales
by tinkerbelldetention101
Summary: The story of Sleeping Beauty, set against the backdrop of pre-Christian AngloSaxon England during the mythical reign of Cerdic the Saxon. Petronilla is a servant of Fate, tasked with overseeing the completion of the prophecies of the Great Tapestry. One bumbling fairy and a badly worded curse later, Pet finds herself with a new task: seeing to Sleeping Beauty's Demise.
1. In Which a Tapestry is Torn

_Hello, and welcome to the first in a series of books: The Torn Tapestry Tales! This has been a work in progress for several years and IS cross-posted on Wattpad (yes, I am the author; this has not been stolen) and more recently FictionPress. I'll be perfectly honest: if you enjoy this story and want faster updates, you may want to mosey on over to Wattpad. I like their formatting abilities a bit better, so while this will be updated not long behind this, "not long" may translate to a few days or even longer. Fair warning that this story IS dark. The first three chapters comprise the first part of the book. There are three parts to the book, each consisting of a handful of chapters, and there IS a time jump at the beginning of each part. The second part will be the biggest time jump. _

_For regular updates, character backgrounds, sneak peeks, and insights into the future of the series, please join us on Facebook sleepingbeautysdemise._

**In Which A Tapestry is Torn**

The child was lovely, for a baby. Truly, Anwen's gift of beauty was wasted here. The gift had done nothing, so far as Pet could see from her position. The infant girl was still pale as cream, with a down of golden fuzz peeking out from beneath her swaddling. Though her eyes were closed in sleep, Pet was certain they were the same blue-grey as her parents.

"We thank you, Blessed One, for your generous gift to this, our most beloved daughter," the King intoned from his throne as Esla blessed the child with honesty and integrity.

Pet shuddered at the sound of his voice; he sounded bored, indifferent – the child of little consequence to him. A girl was not an heir, and could be little more than a means to an end for this King, who had only one living son, and a sickly one at that. Rumor had it his first wife's death in childbirth had been more than just the hand of Fate when the king learned she had given him a dead son.

A shiver of revulsion slid down her spine as she took in the sight of the King and his queen. Side by side, they were a horrifying juxtaposition of youth and decay.

The king was a man in the decline of his life. His hair was bleached nearly white with age; wrinkles marred what may once have been a handsome face. He was a large man, with a gut that would have put Bacchus to shame. His face was clean-shaven, which was probably the only kind thing Pet could say about his appearance. His tunic was well-fitted, which did no favors for his girth. Though famous for the battles that had recently won him his throne, Pet was certain he would only be remembered as an overweight lecher.

Beside him, his fair-haired queen was little more than a child herself. Undoubtedly bartered away by her own parents, Pet felt a twinge of sympathy for the child-bride. To be saddled with such an old husband at such a young age was, she felt, the ultimate punishment for a crime from a past life. The girl was dressed as a queen, and looked about as at-home in the sumptuous garments as a pauper might. It was likely the violet gown she wore had once belonged to her unfortunate predecessor.

Forcing her attention back to the two Fae creatures near the baby, Pet watched for the moment Father Time had said would come.

She didn't have long to wait.

As Anwen and Esla made their way to the thrones to offer their further well-wishes following their gifts, Merewina, the final Fae in attendance, came forward to offer her blessing on the child. She had no sooner stepped toward the dais than the doors at the front of the hall burst open. Shadows slithered up the rush-covered floor, clinging to everything they touched. Courtiers and servants jumped backwards as the shadows touched their feet, as if they could feel the ill-intent in them.

Pet watched as a long shadow, the darkest of all, slithered towards the cradle which held the sleeping princess. The shadow began to grow, fleshing out, twisting, until...

Danae, Queen of the Unseelie Court, stood staring down at the infant. Black hair floated around her head, her dark gown hanging loosely about her, reminiscent of the shadows they were spun from. In her hand, she clutched a staff of dark wood.

"Ah, the guest of honor." Danae spoke as though the entire hall weren't listening, watching her with bated breath. She drew a pale, slender finger down the child's face, startling the baby awake. The child gave a sharp cry of distress as her eyes flickered open.

King Cerdic seemed to have recovered from his momentary shock at the sound of his daughter's cry. "What is the meaning of this? You will leave this place now!" he thundered, struggling to lift his heavy bulk from his throne.

Danae peered over her shoulder at him. "Foolish mortal, you think to order your betters about? Have you no sense?"

Much to Pet's surprise, it was Cerdic's young queen who answered. "Please." Her voice was soft, barely audible. "Please, Fair One, why have you come? My husband assured me you would have no interest in his kingdom, nor our daughter." Why the queen had needed this assurance, Pet didn't know.

"Then he is as naïve as he is foolish, child, for he has insulted me and been untruthful to you."

Cerdic snorted. "How could I possibly have insulted you? I have told no untruths, for you could have no reason to be here."

Danae fixed him with a cold stare, her black eyes unblinking. "You have either a poor memory or a terrible habit of lying, Cerdic of Wessex. Was it not my people who helped you in your defeat of Natanleod, that ill-fated King of the Britons? Was it not I who placed your crown upon your head that day? For which you pledged to pay a tithe to our court each year at the winter solstice, a promise which you have not fulfilled?"

Cerdic paled, but still he tried to deny Danae's allegations. "Why should I, rightful King of Wessex, pay such a tax to you? I owe no loyalties nor boons to your kind."

"Rightful king?" Danae scoffed, fury lacing her words. "Cerdic of Wessex you may be now, but when I placed the crown upon your brow, you were only a banished earl desperate to return home. What right had you to the crown of Natanleod, ordained King of the Britons?"

The King spluttered indignantly, his face splotched red. Before he had a chance to respond, his queen spoke up once more. "What is it my husband owes you, O Fair One? I am sure we can fetch what you are due from our treasury." The queen, Edith by name, if Pet recalled correctly, sounded stronger this time, subtly betraying her Dyfaed accent.

Danae's laughter was chilling. Pet closed her eyes, willing the Unseelie Queen not to say what Pet knew she would. "Little Queen, if you did not loathe your fat old husband yet, you surely will now. Your child, dear girl, is the price for his foolish pride." A chill passed over Pet at Danae's pronouncement; around her, whispers and gasps broke out among the well-wishers attending the name-day.

Cerdic's face, already skeletally white, paled even further. By this time, he had managed to stand, and now shoved his mutely horrified wife behind him. "You cannot have her!" he cried, pointing a trembling finger at Danae. The doors behind his throne swung open, revealing the fully-armed royal guards advancing towards the dark Fae. They stopped just short of her, as though some magic had robbed them of movement.

"Have her? My dear Cerdic, you misunderstand. I don't want her. I want her blood." Behind the King, Edith's horrified shriek nearly deafened her husband. It echoed through the chamber, shattering Pet's heart as the unlucky young mother fell to the floor in a faint, her ladies rushing forward to attend her.

Contrary to what her duties may have lead others to believe, Pet was not heartless. The thought of the young princess paying for her father's foolishness with her own life horrified her. There was, sadly, simply nothing Pet could do about it.

After all, Talia's death had been woven into the Tapestry before the doomed child was even born. That which is foretold, must come to be.

Pet was pulled from her musings by Danae's voice, strangely gentle and oddly caring. "Poor child." The Fae appeared to soften as she took in the sight of Edith, awake but still prostrate with grief in the arms of one of her ladies as another fanned her with a sleeve. "So young to be a wife and mother. Poor fool, hardly more than a child yourself. I am not without feeling, my girl. It brings me no pleasure to rob a mother of her daughter. My court is, however, owed a tithe for our part in your husband's victory. The laws of my people demand a sacrifice in the face of Cerdic's failure to pay. Your child's life is the payment we are owed – blood of his blood for the blood of our blood lost and not repaid."

Edith let out a keening wail, struggling to her feet, desperate to reach her child. Danae shook her head. If Pet didn't know better, she'd say that was regret in the Queen's eye.

"I see your heart breaking, child. Alas, I cannot change what will be. Fate is a funny thing, and once it is foretold, it cannot be changed. I can, however, delay it for a time. Not long, but perhaps long enough for memories to sustain you through your coming loss. Sixteen years is all I can give you – sixteen years, and not a moment longer." Pet groaned. Father Time would not be happy.

"Sixteen years!" Cerdic thundered. "We are to have her for sixteen years, knowing she is to die? What kindness is this?"

Danae turned a furious gaze on him. "It is far more than you deserve, you swine. Thank your queen for my gift, for you have done nothing to earn it. It is only for her sake that I am willing to risk the wrath of the gods." Cerdic cowered in the face of Danae's rage. "Now hear this! The princess Talia will, as gifted to her, grow in grace and beauty, a credit to your line. She will be loved by all who know her and cherished by her family. But before the sun sets for the final time on her sixteenth year, she shall prick her finger on the poisoned thorn of a rose. The blood which flows from her wound will settle our score, and she shall die." Her staff banged against the floor, echoing through the chamber as the curse settled over the screaming infant.

As Cerdic bellowed for the guard, standing frozen as if made of ice, to seize Danae - as if that would work - the Dark Queen vanished, long shadows once again slithering across the rushes of the floor. Edith, in a surge of maternal strength, had recovered herself enough to at last reach her now-screaming infant. Pulling the child from her cradle, the queen held her close as she turned a furious gaze on her husband. Gone was Cerdic's meek child-bride; in her place stood a mother filled with righteous anger on behalf of her helpless child.

Pet could feel it in her bones as Edith opened her mouth to speak, magic and hate rolling off the seemingly mortal Queen in waves. Fate was going further off-course.

"Arawn, harbinger of revenge, hear my words and avenge my daughter!" Edith cried, flinging her fury at her husband. "As you have brought a curse upon our daughter, so too do I curse you. Your line will end with a fool, in disaster, just as it has begun. May the wives of your sons know the same pain you have brought upon your own!"

"Have you no shame, witch?" her husband boomed after a momentary startled pause. "No sense at all? 'Tis your own descendants you curse, you mad woman."

Around them, courtiers began to speak in hushed whispers. Pet could hear snippets of the conversation – something about Edith's family, magic, and Cerdic's bad luck.

Hoping to salvage the situation, Pet stepped forward from her place behind a tapestry. Throwing the hood of her cloak back, she strode towards the royal couple. Normally, Father Time would have her hide for revealing herself at this stage, but...well, His Royal Pain in Her Backside would simply have to deal with it. It was time for a little damage control.

"My lord King, my lady Queen." Pet bent her knees to the royal couple in supplication. She may be an immortal being, but this was still their kingdom. She'd give them their due.

Cerdic turned, fixing his steely gaze on her. "Yes? What is it? It had better be good, wench, for we are in the midst of a crisis."

Wench? That was a first. Then again, Cerdic didn't strike her as the type to be familiar with courtesy when not applied to himself. "Yes, my lord King. I am here about this very matter."

Edith spoke now. "Who are you? Another Fae creature, come to finish your queen's work? She said we could have sixteen years! You cannot have my child!"

"Gentle, Edith," Petronilla calmed the queen. "I am Petronilla, beloved of Wyrd, apostate of Father Time." At this, Cerdic's eyes widened. "I am not here for the princess."

"Then what are you here for, Beloved of Wyrd?" Cerdic demanded, his hand up as if to summon the guards for her arrest at any moment.

"To help," Pet replied.

She saw hope light up Edith's face at her words. Quickly, Pet backpedaled. Father Time would have her head for interfering too far, but there was one thing she could get away with offering. "I cannot stop that which is foretold, Queen Edith. I can do nothing to reverse what Danae has done, nor can I change it. I do not possess such magics. What I offer you is this: forgetfulness."

"What good is forgetfulness?" Pet returned her attention to the agitated King. Forgetfulness was good for many things – saving Pet's skin, for instance – but there was only one reason she needed to give the royal couple.

"I can allow you to enjoy the sixteen years you have now been granted you with your daughter, without the shadow of her impending death hanging over you. I can allow you to forget, until she falls to it, that there is a curse upon your daughter's head." Turning back to Edith, Pet continued. "The choice is yours, my lady Queen. To live in peace and happiness until your daughter's death, or to mourn her impending loss with every day she lives: you must choose."

As Edith began to think over the choice given her, Merewina, the forgotten Fae, stepped forward. "Please, my lady Protector, before you grant them this, might I bestow my gift? For I had not done so before."

Pet had a bad feeling about this, but what harm could it do? "Of course, Fair One. Only recall: what will be, will be."

Merewina nodded, moving gracefully towards the Queen and Princess. Reaching her hand out to lay it upon the child's brow, she spoke. "Sweet Princess, I cannot undo Danae's curse any more than my lady Petronilla can. It is against the laws governing my people. But perhaps, I can still save you. Before the sun sets upon your sixteenth year, you will indeed prick your finger upon the thorn of a rose. On this occurrence, you shall not die, but fall into a deep sleep of one hundred years. As you sleep, the world will continue around you. Brothers will follow after you, and each successor will care for you in their turn until the day you awaken."

Pet stared. Had the Fae creature lost her mind entirely? One hundred years of sleep would not satisfy Danae's claim on the blood of Cerdic's line. Chaos would ensue. More importantly, Father Time was going to be furious. Pet's back hurt already.

Edith nodded gratefully at the small Fae. "I thank you, Fair One, for your gift. Will it be enough?"

Merewina shook her head. "I do not know, my lady, but I hope it will be. Only Mother Wyrd, Mistress of Fate, knows if your daughter's life can be saved. But I have done what I can to intervene with her. May she be merciful."

Stepping between the two women, Pet tried to salvage Fate as best she could. "My lady Queen, I must be returning from where I came. I need your answer. Will you live in peace and happiness, or misery and despair?"

With one last hate-filled look at her husband, Edith replied, "I choose forgetfulness, if you please. I cannot live my daughter's life knowing she is doomed to die or to sleep."

Nodding, Pet waved her hand. It wasn't necessary, but a little showmanship never hurt anything. "So be it."

And in a locked room behind a golden door, an ancient Tapestry began to tear.


	2. In Which Many Things Happen At Once

In Which Many Things Happen At Once

The light was blinding. Reflecting off the golden door, it filled the hallway, rendering all who entered nearly blind. Inside the room, the Great Tapestry hung on a silver peg, as it had since time immemorial.

Outside the room, a screech of pain sounded through the halls as a silver-haired woman stumbled down the corridor. Behind her, several women were rushing to catch up with her, arms outstretched as if hoping to keep her from falling. Head bowed, hands clenched in fists at her temples, she flung herself against the golden door. As her body made the impact, she screamed again, hands yanking on her hair. One of the women reached out, steadying her as she collapsed to the floor.

"My Lady, please! You'll hurt yourself. Allow me to help," the woman pleaded. With a groan of pain, the silver-haired woman nodded. Hesitantly, one of the other women reached for the handle and slowly pushed the door open. As the door swung inward, the blinding light dimmed down, allowing the gathered women a view of the room, and of the Tapestry.

It was torn, threads fraying as it hung listlessly on its silver peg. Red threads dripped like blood to the floor, mixing with blue, brown, and black as they went. The silver-haired woman screamed again, blood flowing from her temple as her nails dug into her skin. Frightened, the women dragged her away, slamming the golden door shut behind them, trapping the torn Tapestry in its ruined state.

Pet lurched forwards, her feet scrambling to find purchase as she landed. No sooner had she regained her balance than she was sent flying across the stone floor, her face smarting from the blow she'd received.

"Idiot! Incompetent wretch!" Father Time thundered as he advanced towards her, spit flying from his mouth as he shouted. "Have you any idea what you've done?"

Holding her hand against her stinging cheek, Pet struggled to her feet. "Nothing more than I was bid, my Lord," she hissed. Time grabbed her arm, yanking her upwards. She yelped in pain.

"You were not bidden to destroy the Tapestry, you foolish girl!" Pet's eyes widened. Destroy the Tapestry? "Did you or did you not fail to see to the child's death?"

"She lives, yes, but only until her sixteenth year. Surely this cannot be that disastrous?" What trouble could a single girl, no matter her rank, get into in sixteen years which would cause such an issue with the Tapestry? Time shoved her away from him, a snarl fixing his features as he did.

"Do you not remember what it was you were up to at sixteen, Petronilla? Have you forgotten why you are here?" Pet flushed, her eyes darkening as she took in his words. "Or could it be that is the trouble? You recall exactly why you are here."

"Of course I recall," Pet snapped. "How could I forget? I have regretted it every day since. I look, always, for her, and yet I never find her. The only reason I accepted this alternative, and I cannot fulfill my purpose. I never forget, my Lord. Never."

Time stared at her for a moment, his eyes black with rage. "Your purpose? You think that is your purpose in being here? Stupid girl! Your purpose has nothing to do with her. You are here to serve my wife, to facilitate her edicts. And see! See what you have done to her!" As he spoke, Time grabbed hold of her arm and yanked her out of the room, down the hall to the room Pet knew as her Lord and Lady's bedchamber, though she'd never been in it before. Shoving Pet towards the bed, Time repeated, "See what you have done to her!"

In disbelief, Pet stared at her Lady. Mother Wyrd lay on the bed, her pale eyes staring blankly upwards. Her breathing was ragged, and Pet could see where her nails had dug into her temples. Dried blood covered her fingers and stained her silver hair, though one of her serving women had clearly been cleaning her up before Pet's unceremonious entrance. Turning toward Time again, Pet couldn't keep the tremble out of her voice. "What happened?"

The fight seemed to go out of Time as he gazed at Wyrd, a tender wariness in his eyes. "She is dying." Muffled sobs broke out from Wyrd's handmaidens at these words, the young women leaning on one another at the foot of her bed.

"I don't understand." Pet glanced back at Wyrd, who had been so vibrant only hours before. Time gestured to her.

"Come with me and I will explain. Perhaps then you will see the folly of what you have done." With that, Time swept out of the room, Petronilla trailing in shocked silence after him. Down the hall they went, stopping before a cracked golden door. Time pushed the door open and waved his hand, sweeping Pet into the room.

Along the wall, held up by intermittently placed silver pegs, was a tapestry. It appeared to be made of multiple blue, black, red, and brown dots, as if the weaver hadn't been sure of what she wanted to show. Confused, Pet glanced at Time.

"It is the Great Tapestry of Fate." Time tugged her towards a section of the tapestry, about a fourth of the way around it, where a gaping tear had formed. From close up, Pet could see what she had thought were dots were, in fact, small pictures. The tear in the tapestry seemed to start at a small cluster of pictures, which appeared to depict a baby's name-day.

Talia's name-day.

"How did this happen?" Pet whispered, horrified. She had never seen it, but each of Wyrd's Idis, her harbingers of Fate, knew the history of the Great Tapestry, knew its purpose, and knew the consequences of interrupting the woven path of Fate it depicted.

Time pressed his hand gently against the bare wall once covered by the torn Tapestry, now scorched as if by fire, hanging his head in sorrow. "Talia's death was not depicted in her own personal tapestry, Pet. Her story was only told on the Great Tapestry of Fate, for her death was meant to save Cerdic's dynasty from disaster under the wrath of the Unseelie. Cerdic's line was meant to rule in peace for generations to come; now, with Talia's Fateless years, the Tapestry has gone off course. The events depicted in it may no longer happen. The moment you allowed Danae to give her extra years – no, Petronilla, don't say anything yet -the moment Danae failed to kill the child as she was meant to do, the Tapestry tore."

"So Wyrd is...?" Pet felt her heart constrict. Even the Gods were not guaranteed immortality, Pet knew, but still she hoped. For one brief moment, Petronilla allowed herself to hope. Then Time nodded heavily, and his voice sounded, drumming the words again and again into Pet's mind.

"Yes, Petronilla. Wyrd is dying."

Pet found herself standing before the Council, hands clasped behind her back, head bowed demurely. Around her, the other lesser deities murmured amongst themselves, gossiping about the charges laid out before her.

"She has brought destruction upon us all!"

"She will be the downfall of our kind!"

"I always said Wyrd was out of her mind to take on HER kind. This is what she gets for trusting an Idis."

Head held high, ignoring the rumors swirling around her, Pet faced the Council. At its head, Woden stared grimly at her. "Petronilla Aurelia, Idis in the employ of Mother Wyrd, Mistress of Fate, you know why you are here?" The words echoed through the chamber as silence settled over the gathered beings.

"Yes, Woden. I am here because my actions on the day of Talia of Wessex's naming ceremony allowed the Unseelie Queen to change the wording of her curse, a curse which had been woven into the Great Tapestry of the World. In doing so, I have placed Mother Wyrd's life in a precarious position and endangered the well-being of all gathered here today." Pet spoke with confidence. Her words were damning, and the sentence would not be lenient she knew, but still she owned the reason for her summoning before the council. What else could she do?

"You do not object to these charges?" Woden's amazement was not lost on Pet. It seemed he, like the others, had expected Pet to deny the charges against her.

"No, I do not." Pet held her breath, praying – to whom she didn't know, since the only gods who could answer her were currently deciding her punishment – for a leniency she knew would not be coming.

"In light of this, Petronilla Aurelia, the council has no choice but to find you guilty of treasonous actions against your patroness. For this, you will be held accountable. In the mortal world, treason is an executable offense. However, executing you would simply make you Hel's problem, and frankly she has enough to deal with." Woden slid a side-long glance at Hel, who looked swiftly away, a sly smile flashing briefly across her ruined face. Of course - Danae would be her problem. "It is with this in mind that we, the Council of the Gods, sentence Petronilla Aurelia to the position of Guardian of the House of Wessex for as long as it takes to correct your misstep. To ensure you do not repeat this carelessness, we sentence you to this post as a mortal for as long as Talia of Wessex survives."

"Wyrd is dying. How?" Danae paced the length of her hall, twisting her hands as she went. "The Mistress of Fate must surely be in control of such a matter. Cursing a baby, changing my wording just slightly, surely cannot have such serious repercussions."

Hel shook her head, her bony hand reaching out to stop her supplicant's incessant pacing. "That is what none have ever seemed to understand of Wyrd's role in this world. Wyrd is not the creator of Fate. She is the Keeper of the Tapestries, tied to the Great Tapestry. She exists because of the Tapestry, and it, in turn, exists because of her. Neither can exist without the other."

Danae shook her head. "How can this be? Wyrd has always been touted as Mistress of Fate."

Explaining the intricacies of the lives of the Gods was too exhausting an idea for Hel to even contemplate. Besides, explaining too much may interfere with her plans.

Instead, she chose to focus on the first of Danae's questions. "Your curse on Talia of Wessex was depicted the Great Tapestry, which tells the story of the world from its beginning to its end. This Tapestry is how we know of Ragnarok, and that we cannot avoid it. The things in this Tapestry are meant to be, things which should not be changed or risk the detriment of all. Talia's death was pivotal to her father's dynasty. She did not have a tapestry of her own, as is the norm for children of great importance not meant to live beyond infancy. Your changing of the Curse created a tapestry for her, tearing the Great Tapestry in the process. It continues unraveling, and Wyrd herself has taken ill as a result."

"What can I do, Mistress? I never...I didn't think it mattered if the child died now or later..." Danae's troubled eyes filled with tears, unusual for the normally stoic Unseelie Queen.

Hel smiled. Danae was playing right into her hands, as she had known the Fae would. "By doing exactly what the Gods are doing, Danae: send in a minion to ensure the child dies."

On the banks of a river in a land long forgotten by mortals, a blonde woman knelt. Her gaze trained intently on the water, she dipped her fingers into the liquid, murmuring softly as she did. Images appeared, faces smiling up at her from beneath the rippling water. A baby, golden fluff sprouting from her head...a woman, long blonde hair dangling over a cradle...an older man, his greedy eyes scouring a treasury...a red-haired woman holding her hands out to a small child...

And a man, with hair as black as night and eyes as cold as ice, climbing into the bed of a golden-haired woman, whose belly began to swell before her eyes, though the woman's own eyes remained curiously blank.

Humming softly, the woman pushed herself to her feet. Brushing the dirt from her skirts, she turned towards the line of trees behind her. "It has all gone wrong," she called out. "I must go back!"

The black robe-clad figure who stepped out in answer to her words was not who she expected. Drawing in a gasp, she twisted in an attempt to run back to the water. What she had expected to happen, she wasn't sure.

One couldn't outrun Death, after all.

Ankou knelt before his mistress, head bowed low. "I have done it, my lady."

Hel clapped her hands, the exposed bones of her left hand sounding oddly hollow as they slapped against the flesh of her right. The fleshed side of her face looked delighted, her rotting half incapable of expression. "Excellent, my huntsman! Most excellent indeed! You shall be richly rewarded, I promise."

Ankou trembled before Hel, fear knotting his stomach as he listened to her. Hel had always been formidable, and never exactly sane (how, after all, could even a goddess remain sane when half her body was rotting away?), but this latest mission had been devious, even for her. To kill one of Lady Holda's most precious...Holda's curse would follow him for all time, harbinger of Death or not.

Sensing her henchman's discomfort, Hel stopped her joyous exclamations. "What is it, Ankou? Grown a conscience at last?"

"My apologies, my lady – it is only...She was one of Holda's children. Surely Lady Holda will unleash her wrath upon me when she has learned of what I have done." Half-remembered tales of Holda's wrath echoed in his mind as he dared a glance up at his mistress. Bodies with their organs ripped from them, straws and pebbles in their place...Men driven half-mad with the horrors visited upon them in their sleep, until they could no longer sleep for sheer fear...

Hel leapt from her throne, a piece of flesh falling from her rotting thigh at the sudden movement. Her hood fell back from her face, revealing the ink-black hair that was her only beauty. "Holda? You fear Holda!" Indignation glittered in her one good eye and echoed in her words. "Swine! Absolute swine. Holda is not a woman to be feared, Ankou, but I promise you: you kneel now before one who is."

Swallowing thickly, Ankou bowed his head lower. "I don't mean to offend you, my lady. It's only...the stories they tell of Lady Holda's wrath – I remember them well from my days on Earth. I can no longer die to escape her curse, my lady. I fear eternity suffering her wrath."

Hel glared, her good eye narrowing dangerously. Without a word, she swept from her throne, her robes trailing after her. Ankou remained kneeling before her vacant throne, still trembling, for another moment or two before climbing to his feet. Dusting the dirt off his knees, he turned to depart as well, intent on continuing his usual work before Hel decided to unleash her own wrath upon him.


	3. In Which Four Years Have Passed

In Which Four Years Have Passed

Talia twirled around her mother's foyer, arms outstretched, her sleeves billowing out as she did. Her laughter brought a smile to her mother's face, a rare occurrence these days. Edith had been an unhappy queen almost since the birth of her daughter. A nagging feeling tugged at her mind whenever she pondered why she felt this way, as though there was something she had forgotten.

Her daughter had been a quiet, happy infant who had grown into a talented, engaging child. Despite occasional bouts of temper, Talia had a kind heart. She made her parents proud, truly a credit to their house. She was beginning to learn embroidery and dancing, and excelled at each, though she appeared to prefer activities that kept her moving to ones that kept her still. There never seemed to be enough hours in the day for all the things Talia wanted to do, and she was often to be found hiding from her nurse and avoiding her lessons.

Another peal of laughter shook Edith from her musings and she observed her daughter attempting to leap from a small wooden stool, arms flapping. The girl landed in a graceless heap on the rush-covered floor, her skirts tangling about her feet. Struggling to stand back up, Talia's little crown of flowers tipped forward, a single red petal sliding down and catching in a strand of the girl's hair.

At four years old, Talia was a delicately beautiful child. If Edith didn't know any better, she'd think the girl a changeling.

"Are you a fairy queen today, my princess?" Edith indulged her daughter's whimsy, though the very mention of the Fair Folk made her feel ill.

Talia giggled, turning to face her mother. "No, Mother!" she cried. "I am a bird!" She flapped her arms again, as if to prove her avian nature.

Edith nodded. "Of course, daughter. Forgive me; I should have realized. But are you not a little bird who is neglecting her lessons? Surely Pet is looking for you."

At that moment, as if the very mention of her existence had called her to the room, the door opened and Talia's governess entered, curtsying to the queen. "I was indeed, my lady. The princess has left off her sewing."

Pet was Talia's nurse, a quiet woman of indeterminate age. Edith couldn't recall where she had found Pet at, but the woman had been Talia's caretaker since the girl was an infant. A somewhat odd woman, Pet had the annoying habit of seemingly always knowing when she was being talked about. No one knew much about her, but Talia adored her. The two had an odd relationship, and sometimes Edith wondered if Pet truly cared for Talia at all. The nurse often seemed more irritated than amused by the girl's antics.

As if to provide proof to the queen's thoughts, Pet rolled her eyes as Talia danced playfully around her, a look of distinct irritation crossing her face fleetingly. The moment was over before Edith could truly be sure of what she had seen, as such moments always were.

"Oh, but Pet! Needlework is so dull! I much prefer dancing, don't you, Mother?" Talia turned her attentions back to Edith, her joyful smile making it hard to send her back to her lessons, where she belonged.

"I love to dance, Talia, but I find myself too fatigued these days for such activities." Edith looked down at her rounded belly beneath her violet gown.

As it always did, mention of her unborn sibling sparked Talia's interest and she left off her twirling. "When will the baby come, Mother? Father says 'twill be a boy this time!"

Edith felt inexplicable anger flaring in her chest at the mention of her husband. Though she could not pinpoint a particular reason, and though they had gotten along well enough for two people so far apart in age at the beginning of their marriage, Edith had long been disgusted and enraged by Cerdic. Were it not an expected part of her queenly duties, he'd have no more children from her. "I don't know, Talia," she answered in a clipped tone, wincing as her daughter flinched back from her unexpected mood change. "I hope the baby is a boy, for your father badly needs a son, but I shall be just as pleased to have another princess."

"Father says there could never be a princess as perfect as I am!" The child crowed with delight at her father's outrageous compliments. It was true Cerdic needed a son, but he had no trouble doting on his daughter. Whatever faults he may have, he was a loving father.

"A perfect princess would not have left off her sewing," the nursemaid clucked as she adopted a stern expression behind her charge. "Time to fly back to work, my little bird."

"Oh Mother, must I?" Talia threw herself into her mother's lap. What little lap she could find, that is – it was nearly time for the babe to be born and Edith's belly took up more room than she cared to admit.

Gently, she stroked her daughter's golden curls. "Yes, my love. I am afraid you must. Perhaps, if you can manage it neatly, you might make something for the baby with Pet's help."

That seemed to stave off any tears Talia may have shed. Beautiful, kind, and sweet, she may be, but she was also spoiled and unafraid to use her charm and beauty to get what she wanted. Edith supposed this was true of all beautiful children her age. "Could we, Pet? Could you help me make a pretty picture for the baby?"

Pet nodded. "Of course, my lady. But you must come along now, for the baby could be here any minute. If you do not start right away, you will not be finished with the gift in time."

With a comically horrified widening of her eyes, Talia grabbed fast to Pet's hand and began to pull the nursemaid towards Edith's chamber door. "Come, Pet! Come! We must hurry! Don't come before I am finished, baby!" she called back towards her mother. "I shall make you something quite pretty!"

Edith, with rather more effort than she cared to think on, stood from her chair as soon as Talia was out of sight. "Well, if she is to make the babe something quite pretty, she best be quick about it," she said wryly to her ladies.

"Why is that, my lady?" Aletha, the youngest of her ladies in the room, looked confused. The other, more experienced ladies tittered with laughter at her innocence. Edith smiled gently; she wasn't much older than Aletha, after all, and were she not a married lady, she would be confused as well.

"If the pains in my belly are any indication, Lady Aletha, the babe shall be here sometime today or tomorrow."

Pet could hear the queen's ladies calling for the midwife to be fetched as she lead Talia down the corridor back to her own chambers. Blessedly, the child was oblivious to the goings-on behind her.

"We must make the baby something quite pretty, Pet," Talia was saying as she scurried on her way. "Or handsome, I suppose, if 'tis a boy."

Reaching Talia's chamber at last, Pet pushed open the heavy wooden doors and gently marched her charge back to her discarded needlework. Picking up the small square of cloth, she handed it back to the princess. "I am sure the baby will be quite happy with a picture from you, young lady, if you can finish it neatly."

"Can you help me, Pet? I am hopeless with needlework!" Talia's dramatics never ceased to irritate Pet, though she felt she hid it well. The girl was, after all, a rather overly indulged princess and couldn't help it, unlike some...

Lord Time paced furiously in front of her after their return from the Council meeting. Pet wasn't sure what had upset him more: her actions or her punishment. "You had one simple task, Petronilla! One job. ONE, and you managed to muck it up fabulously, didn't you?" he thundered. Behind him, Lady Holda, Pet's maker and thus who Time blamed for her...behavior...lay a hand on his shoulder.

"To be fair, my Lord, it was Danae who granted the extra years, and Brigid who gave an alternative course of Fate." Holda was a far more gentle being than her counterparts, and often found herself intervening for the Keepers with him. Talia's ultimate Fate must still come about, but perhaps a slight delay wouldn't be too detrimental overall.

"She should have known! The blasted fairy asked her for permission. She should have said no. She should have granted forgetfulness before the fairy ever got near that child," Time ranted.

"We can't all be omniscient," Pet muttered. Wyrd groaned. Pet's mouth was going to get her into even more trouble. "I don't understand why we can't simply correct the matter now."

Time stared at her, spluttering for a moment."Because, you thrice-damned fool, Danae's curse has been lain out. It is, as it were, written in stone. Killing the child now will have severe repercussions for everyone," Lord Time roared at her at last, raising his hand as if to strike her. Pet flinched away. "As it is, Time and Fate are in an uproar. Everything she does from this moment forward changes the course of Fate as it was laid out, tearing the Tapestry further. This is your fault, Petronilla. Yours and yours alone, and so you must carry the punishment."

Lady Holda spoke up again. "Be gentle, Lord Time. She has already admitted her guilt and received her punishment."

His smile scared Pet. She'd never seen it before. "I won't hurt her, Holda, if that's your worry. No, I shall do something far worse." Pet gulped. "Petronilla Aurelia, I hereby vow on my honor that I shall make your task as difficult as possible. While you are in the mortal realm, you shall have no contact with the gods, nor shall they hear your prayers. Your fate is now in your own hands, as you have taken the fate of your mistress in them as well."

"Pet, are you going to help me?" Talia's voice (and, admittedly, the shoving of her needlework into Pet's face) drew her out of her thoughts. She smiled benignly down at the child.

"If it is a gift, child, it would be best if you did it yourself, don't you think?" Pet answered. She knew, of course, that Talia would do anything to get out of needlework. Quite frankly, Pet found the whole thing pointless, but that was irrelevant. She couldn't very well tell Edith that Talia...

Well, she simply couldn't tell Edith.

Before Talia could wheedle her way into Pet's good graces (and thus, Pet's embroidery skills), the door to the chamber swung open again.

King Cerdic, followed by a train of thanes and servants, strode into the room. More accurately, everyone else strode in. Cerdic all but rolled in. The point of such a large train in accompanying Cerdic's every move was lost on Pet; it made no sense, but who was she to judge the doings of mortal men?

"Are you ready, daughter?" Cerdic boomed as he swung his daughter into his arms. The child squealed with laughter.

"Ready for what, Father?"

"You don't know? But you have just come from her rooms!" Talia scrunched her nose in confusion. Cerdic gave an exasperated sigh, as if he expected a child of four to know everything. "Your mother, child, has gone to her bed to deliver the new baby! Your brother is coming!"

Pet shook her head. Talia was an emotional child, and her new sibling's sudden entry into the world before she had the chance to complete her gift would send her spiraling into a tizzy. Before the child had a chance to respond to her father, Pet swept the girl into her own arms. "We were just about to set to work on a gift for the new babe, my lord. Would you like to watch the princess work? She is quite talented when she puts her mind to it." That, at least, was true.

The compliment to his daughter's talents had its intended effect. Cerdic beamed. "Of course she is! She is my daughter, after all. Why would she not be talented? I shall look forward to the completed product, of course, but I am afraid I must take my leave. Much to do before my son makes his entrance, you know."

"You are certain it will be a boy, Father?" Talia asked, looking up from Pet's shoulder. As anxious to please her father as ever, Talia was sure to beg allowance to try her hand at a battle scene from Cerdic's conquering of Natanleod years ago, as Pet had already talked her out of once, if she thought the child would truly be a boy.

"I already have a pretty daughter, my dear. Why should the gods not bless me now with a son? For what good would yet another princess be for my lands? Daughters are only good for breeding, you know." Pet felt fury wash over her as Cerdic patronizingly patted Talia on the head and swept back out of the room. Looking down at the child in her arms, she could see tears gathered in the corners of Talia's eyes. Loving as he could be, Cerdic was completely oblivious to the feelings of his young daughter, as so many fathers tended to be.

"Never you mind what your father thinks, my dear," she comforted the child. "Come, let us make something pretty for the baby's arrival."

Talia knew Pet found her tiresome. She stabbed her needle into the cloth again, as she had been doing for some time now, pricking her finger as she did. With a cry of distress, she flung the embroidery down and held her finger out for Pet's inspection.

Pet may think she didn't notice, but Talia heard her sharp intake of breath, saw the small roll of her eyes. The moment passed quickly, though, and then Pet was examining the wound with a carefully crafted look of concern on her face. "I believe we can salvage the finger, my lady," Pet drawled in her strange accent. "You needn't begin living life as a disfigured hermit yet."

Talia sniffled, wiping in a decidedly un-princess like manner at her dripping nose. "Are you sure, Pet?" Pet nodded, patting her hand as she released her finger back to her. "I certainly hope the baby likes my gift, now I've sacrificed for it."

Little she may be, but Talia knew well enough how to sacrifice. It was part of all the important ceremonies her father held, and Talia watched with rapt attention everything he did. Mother didn't like him very much, but then, Mother didn't seem to like anyone. Father said Mother was hard to please. Pet just snorted and told her to mind her manners when Talia asked about her mother's unhappiness. Come to think of it, Pet didn't seem to like Father either.

"I'm sure the baby will be appreciative of anything you make for him." Pet's voice startled Talia. Her embroidery was unceremoniously dropped back into her lap. "However, he can enjoy nothing at all until it is finished, and you heard your father. The baby is on its way. You should finish now while your mother labors."

Talia sighed and bent her head back to her embroidery. She had wanted to attempt the scene of Natanleod's defeat, the Briton's head held high in her father's hand. She could just picture it – hordes of Saxon soldiers surrounding the triumphant warlord Cerdic on this, his first step to becoming King of Wessex. Talia couldn't picture a Wessex without her father on the throne, but he had only been King since shortly before her birth. Before that, he had been an ealdorman of Saxony, bound to serve his Saxon overlords. His defeat of Natanleod, Pet had told her, had won him his own throne.

Pet had told her that wasn't an appropriate scene for a baby, especially since they wouldn't know if the baby was male until its birth. Instead, she had suggested embroidering their family's crest onto a cloth to be used as part of the baby's bedding. Talia hadn't like that idea, deciding her baby brother would have enough embroidered crests to last him a lifetime. She wanted her gift to be unique. She had begun embroidering, with that in mind, a simple picture of Sunna and Mani, the Sun and Moon. She had always liked the stories her father told of the twin deities, and had decided they would make a perfect representation of her hoped-for relationship with her new sibling.

"Sunna is female, is she not?" Pet's voice interrupted Talia's thoughts. Glancing up at her nursemaid, Talia nodded. "Then why have you given both a moustache?"

Talia brought the embroidery closer to her eyes. Sure enough, she had given both deities a moustache reminiscent of her father's. With an outraged cry, she flung the cloth away from her again. "I cannot do this, Pet! I am useless at needlework! I shall never make a good gift for Mother's baby."

Pet handed the cloth back to her with a cluck of her tongue and a swat to her hands. "You can, and you will. You have promised your mother, and a princess always keeps her word. Now set to work. You've only a little work to rip out; the rest of it is very good."

Sniffling to herself, Talia obediently began working on ripping out the stitches to Sunna's moustache. With Sunna newly de-moustached, she went back to work embroidering the celestial rays of the sun to convey Sunna's role in the cosmos. "Do you think Mother has had the baby yet, Pet?"

"These things take time, Talia. I am sure your father will let you know the moment he can, though I doubt you'll be able to see your mother for at least a few hours after that."

"Oh, I don't want to see Mother. I want to see the baby. I've a curiosity, you know." Talia could see Pet's rolling eyes again. Pet never liked Talia's curiosities, but she always answered them. "I am curious, Pet. Where do babies come from? Father says Mother will have to labor. Is she to dig the baby out of the gardens like the slaves dig out the root vegetables?"

Pet gave a choked laugh. "No, child. Your mother would never stoop to such a task. Nay, she must labor with her body to bring your brother or sister into the world, just as she labored with her body to bring you into the world. Her belly has grown because it houses the baby, and it will come out of her below there. And that, child, is all the answer you need right now."

Talia glowered at her nursemaid. "That's hardly an answer, Pet. Won't you tell me more? How did Mother get a baby in her belly? Did she have to eat it?"

Another choked laugh. Why did Pet find her questions so amusing? Talia considered herself a rational child, and she adored Pet (even if Pet didn't much seem to like her). It hurt her feelings that Pet seemed to find her curiosities so amusing. "I'm afraid you're not quite old enough for those answers, child, but you may ask your mother when you see her if you wish."

"Could I not ask Father?" Surely, if anyone would give her an answer, it would be Father. He believed her to be intelligent and lively; certainly explaining how the baby had come about would not be an obstacle to him.

"Talia, if you ask your father, be sure to let me know before you do. I wish to see his face when his darling daughter asks him how babies come to be." Pet seemed endlessly amused at the idea, and Talia found herself further frustrated. "I would suggest in the meantime, Princess, that you return to your embroidery, or you'll have no gift for the baby when it gets here."

Talia obediently returned her attention to her work. As she sewed, she thought she heard Pet mutter "And of course there won't be fairies to muck it up this time."


End file.
